


Me and You (This Ain't A Honeymoon)

by miangel29



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Angst, Child Murder, Drama, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Murder, Serial Killers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miangel29/pseuds/miangel29
Summary: Criminal defense lawyer Lim Jaebeom's client is the man suspected for a series of murders. Had he been given the choice, this would not have been a case he would have taken.





	Me and You (This Ain't A Honeymoon)

***

The taps of polished shoes resounded like deafening thunder in the silent hall, metal bars lined on either side, the walls a monotone of colour, the occupants almost devoid of life. The soft pads of rubber boots from his escort masked his steps, a seemingly deliberate conformity to the muteness of the place. Sound drew interest, less like moths drawn to a flame, resemblance closer to ants slowly and silently gathering over a grain of sugar, the domino of silent communication seeming to pass through each inhabitant as their heads turned, their faces emerging through the streaks of shadows falling onto their cells.

Criminal defense lawyer Lim Jaebeom was unfazed, gaze set determinedly straight, eyes never wavering to the growing interest he was garnering from simply being present. The escorting guard half a step ahead of him turned a sharp left and Jaebeom swiftly followed. Their destination was now in sight, a nondescript metal door at the far end of a corridor, a space away from the last of the prison cells and already heavily guarded at its entrance.

“He’s already inside,” the guard told him, gesturing towards the door.

“I understand you have been informed beforehand, but just to reaffirm that anything said between my client and myself must remain strictly confidential,” Jaebeom said.

The guard nodded. “The warden has given us clear instructions. Any recording we keep for security purposes will be kept in strict confidence unless otherwise consented by you or… _ him _ .”

Jaebeom nodded approvingly. His hand landed on the doorknob to step inside, but the guard caught his wrist in a firm yet unthreatening grip. If anything, the eyes that stared straight into Jaebeom’s seemed worrisome.

“Be careful,” the guard said, a last warning of sorts before he released Jaebeom to allow himself entry.

Clichéd as it was, the room was dimly lit, barren except for the single rectangular table in the center and the two chairs on either side of its longer ends. No windows, no observer’s glass, nothing except the door Jaebeom had stepped through and the ventilation pane just above it. A man sat in one of the chairs, wrists and ankles cuffed to the padlock on the table, secured firmly to the floor. Unmovable, inescapable.

Not that the man was even trying,

His stature was upright, back straight, hands calmly clasped over one another on the table, face devoid of any expression. At least until Jaebeom stepped inside.

“Mr. Attorney,” the man said, his voice a low husk that seemed to tremble the entire room. His head tilted as his eyes stared unblinkingly at Jaebeom, a smile very slowly unfurling from the curl of his lips.

Jaebeom didn’t entertain a response, choosing, instead, to settle into the empty seat, briefcase and documents neatly aligned and set in order. He flipped through a few papers, marking them with a pen and making no remark of the way the restrained man’s eyes had not once left his face, smirk still breaking his otherwise passive expression.

“You are Park Jinyoung, correct?” Jaebeom asked, eyes still on the documents.

“I wouldn’t be here, chained and heavily guarded if I wasn’t,” Jinyoung said, arrogance dripping heavy from his voice.

Jaebeom ignored the condescendence he was being subjected to, proceeding with his questions. “You are originally from Jinhae?”

“Would you like me to speak in my dialect?”

“You were born on 22 September 1985?”

“1984.”

“You are 35 years old?”

“If you passed primary school math, you should be able to figure that out.”

“You fatally stabbed Hwang Hyunjin in the chest and jugular, then disposed of his body in his parents’ backyard?”

At this, Jaebeom’s face slowly rose, papers settling on the table as, for the very first time that day, he met Jinyoung’s eyes head-on, undeterred by the menacing haughtiness that his client still maintained. Their gazes locked and silence engulfed the claustrophobia-inducing room once more. This was no battle of strength, no sizing up of one another, not a muted challenge of egos. This was, plain and simple, a moment of mutual learning, acknowledgement of each other’s being.

Jinyoung was the first to break the moment but it was hardly a show of defeat.

“That’s for the jury to decide, is it not, Attorney?”

Jaebeom continued to hold his gaze. “I’m not here to pass judgment, Mr. Park. As your legal representation, I am here to hear your account and ensure that the law is applied fairly and justly to you.”

“What would be a fair and just application of the law for premeditated murder, Attorney?” Jinyoung drawled, head tilted once more as though in contemplative thought.

“ _ Was _ this premeditated murder, Mr. Park?” Jaebeom questioned calmly.

Jinyoung’s smug grin returned. “You don’t get to pose a question in lieu of answering a question, Attorney.”

“You don’t get to question a man who is trying to get you off, Mr. Park,” Jaebeom shot back.

At that, Jinyoung’s eyes widened, smile broadening into something so purely malicious, it was difficult for fear not to sink into the depths and crevices of Jaebeom’s bones. The temperature of the room seemed to simultaneously drop to a chill but also rise to a steaming high. The way Jinyoung stared at Jaebeom was predatory in both the literal and sexually-charged metaphorical sense.

“ _ Are _ you trying to get me off, Attorney?” his voice dripped heavy with the kind of sweetness that would leave you suffocating but also wanting more. “Because I really wouldn’t object to that.”

The bite of his bottom lip, the blatantly raking eyes roving over Jaebeom’s form in his admittedly well-fitting and very complimenting dark suit, and the minute lean in, was deliberate and seemingly calculated. So was the throaty whine that came out of his mouth when Jinyoung’s eyes landed back on Jaebeom’s still ones.

Jaebeom expended all his focus and concentration to remain impassive, refusing to bite into the bait Jinyoung was dangling in front of his very face, almost quite literally. Mind games, psychological manipulation, almost a textbook profile for the kind of criminal Jinyoung was deemed to be. 

But Jaebeom was still unnerved.

It was unsettling how much Jinyoung seemed to be openly conveying through his expressions and blatant gestures, but the dullness, the utter hollowness of his dark eyes had barely lifted a single shade away from obsidian from the very moment Jaebeom had stepped into the room.

Obscure, unreadable, guarded.

Or, perhaps, dead.

Just like his victims.

“Mr. Park, your full cooperation is required if you ever wish to see the light of day again in your lifetime,” Jaebeom said, voice still determinedly steady even with the penetrating gaze Jinyoung was still subjecting onto him.

In a most unexpected turnaround, Jinyoung’s sharp gaze transformed into the biggest, open-mouthed grin breaking onto his face, eyes crinkling as, inconceivably, a bark of laughter escaped out of him. There was no cause for joy nor humour, only the derisive way that Jinyoung seemed to find Jaebeom’s statement.

“Mr. Lim,” he said, face still crumpled in mirth, “I haven’t a doubt in my mind that I will, as you say, ‘see the light of day again in my lifetime.’ Without a doubt.”

“And what makes you say that?” Jaebeom ventured.

Jinyoung’s laughter had subsided, but the wide grin remained strong on his face. He wasn’t the Joker, but close similarities could be drawn.

The metal cuffs rattled as the links strained against the bolt, the legs to Jinyoung’s metal chair scraped against the floor as its occupant leaned as forward as his physical restraints would allow him. The end result was a breathable few inches left between the tip of Jinyoung’s nose and that of Jaebeoms’ sharp one. For a flicker of a second, Jaebeom thought he saw light in those pitless orbs, so fleeting that it could only be hallucinatory and imagined. But the exhale of breath that brushed softly over Jaebeom’s face as Jinyoung panted slightly with the effort of pushing himself across the table was hot and sharp. And so were the words that came afterwards, an answer to Jaebeom’s earlier query.

“Because you’re my attorney, Mr. Lim,” Jinyoung breathed. “Because I have you.”

***

Loosening his tie and laying it neatly on the arm of his sofa, Jaebeom rolled his neck around as his fingers worked on the buttons of his cuffs, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to just above his elbows as he settled with a sigh of relief into the plush comfort of his sofa.

“…suspect Park Jinyoung has been detained after police arrested the fugitive on a train to his hometown in Jinhae. The man is the sole suspect of the murder of fourteen-year-old Hwang Hyunjin late last year and has also been on the police’s wanted list for at least five other homicides in the past decade. Although no conclusive evidence has ever been found to convict Park Jinyoung for any of the murders, investigators are confident that they will have a solid case to convict Park Jinyoung this time around. This is the first time Park Jinyoung has been effectively detained and set to stand trial for a homicide. Our sources tell us that today, the suspect had met with his legal representation, Lim Jaebeom of Ok and Partners, the law firm being known for taking on high-profile and difficult cases other firms avoid….”

Jaebeom rubbed a hand through his face, sighing deeply. Day one of his assignment to the case and he was already feeling like he’d lived through an entire decade of hardship. When he had finally made partner at the firm, he’d expected to be given a corruption case or a celebrity’s sex scandal. He didn’t think he’d be put as the sole counsel to represent an infamously suspected serial killer.

His phone vibrated with a notification. Glancing quickly at the preview, he saw an e-mail from his associate for the information he had requested about the case. It was nearing midnight and he felt a little mad at himself for pushing his associates to such late hours. But life as a lawyer was never the 9-to-5 office routine other people could square their life into and Jaebeom had had his fair share of late hours and nonexistent sleep. Especially with the portfolio he had in criminal cases before he made partner a few months prior. (Maybe it _shouldn't_ have been such a surprise he had been given the case, after all)

Nevertheless, he typed a quick response of gratitude to his associate, hoping that his appreciation for their work was conveyed and that his associate felt a little less like slave labour (given the paycheck that even entry-level associates received, this really wasn’t the case).

Setting his phone in straight parallel to the remote control on his coffee table, Jaebeom leaned back into his couch and watched the news run through the past cold cases that had been associated with Park Jinyoung, the speculations that had surrounded the murders, and the way Jinyoung had evaded capture and trial every single time.

The television screen was suddenly filled with a barrage of pictures of Jinyoung. Some as frozen screens of security footage, others of random candid pictures the police had taken during various other occasions when investigations had taken place for prior cases. The news report closed with the promise of a special coverage of the trial and a dedicated in-depth discussion session into the cases and Park Jinyoung. Pictures of a younger, toothier, unbridled-laughter Jinyoung was displayed, a teenager and young adult whose eyes still sparkled with the joys of life. The epitome of contradiction to the man he had met earlier that day.

Jaebeom let his eyes rove over the pictures once more before taking the remote and turning the television off.

The first trial was scheduled for a week from today. He had a lot of work to do.

***

Sometimes Jaebeom wished the legal system wasn’t so predictable.

The prosecutors had a strong case,  _ that _ he would admit. It was solid and prepared, as with a case like this having not only gotten widespread attention and outrage but also with the criminal legal system’s dwindling reputation on the line. He really didn’t expect anything else.

He just wished they’d strategize better.

It was one thing to have solid evidence, but it was a completely different skill set altogether to be able to deliver them effectively in court to make a compelling case. State prosecutors were usually good-natured people with a strong affirmation of their ideals and beliefs in upholding justice. They believed in the black-and-whites of right versus wrong, sticking strictly to the words of law and the importance of jurisprudence. 

That was also their downfall. 

State prosecutors spent so much time defending the law, interpreting it almost literally to the letter, that they would forget that court proceedings were a performance, a showcase of persuasive arguments, emotional baits, backed, at the end, by factual evidence. But all in all, it was a stage. And one had to know how to command that stage in order to utilize the tools they had to win the crowd.

This being such a high-profile case, the state prosecutor leading the litigation was, of course, the most senior person they could find still alive in the institution. While the man undoubtedly had a lot of years of litigating experience, but there was no denying that aged counsellors were usually a lot more conservative in style, a lot more reserved in approach and less likely to be creative in their presentations.

Moreover, it was immediately apparent that, given the small crowd of mostly young, bright-eyed men and women following the man into the courtroom, most of the work in putting the case together had fallen on the shoulders of what looked like interns, paralegals, or underrated associates. The prosecutor was only there for show, simply because they couldn’t and didn’t want to ride the case on the shoulders of younger, potentially more triumphant yet severely untested, prosecutors.

Jaebeom found himself praying to God his gut instincts were wrong.

The courtroom fell into a hush when the doors nearest to the judges’ stand opened. Yet it wasn’t the judges that came through, instead, it was the suspect in question, the man presumed to be behind half a dozen murders: Jaebeom’s client.

He didn’t look much different from the first day of their official meeting, sans his growing moustache and dirty orange tracksuit, replaced by a cleaner one. That and his smug arrogance seemed to be left behind in his holding cell, leaving in place a simply blank, unreadable expression that only made his persona a lot more chilling.

Jaebeom had met with him briefly before the scheduled proceeding, updating on his plan for the case, the information his team had gathered, and hoping Jinyoung would have a change of heart to be more cooperative. He had been foolish to think that things would be any different from their first encounter.

_ “Mr. Park, this will be the first trial. I have told you the case that my team and I have prepared. I ask, once again, for your full cooperation in order for me to defend this case to the absolute best of my abilities,” Jaebeom had beseeched. _

_ Jinyoung had given him a lazy look, eyes scanning every inch of Jaebeom like an unwarranted x-ray machine, but his lips remained tightly shut. _

_ “Mr. Park—.” _

_ “Call me Jinyoung.” _

_ Jaebeom’s words and train of thought _ _had_ _ left him for a moment, rendered speechless with the sudden request for familiarity. It had unnerved him because this was a man who had presumably killed, in cold blood and blinding rage. This was a man who had escaped police custody countless times and remained on the run. He was a smart man, Jaebeom had no doubt. But it only unsettled Jaebeom even more because it meant that each word, each action of his needed to be calculated and evaluated. This man didn’t think like any other person would. This man was a murderer. _

_ So why had the voice, despite being coupled with a coy look, a subtle smirk and a lilted tease to its tone, somehow also hinted at softness, almost with an underlying note of pain? _

_ “If I call you Jinyoung, will you agree to cooperate?” Jaebeom had bargained. _

_ Jinyoung had tilted his head, a gesture usually synonymous with contemplation in weighing the benefits of the offer, but Jaebeom knew he was doing anything but that. This time, when he spoke, however, it lost any undertones of humanity and returned to its arrogant monotone he had always adopted, one that was accompanied by another suggestive raise of an eyebrow. _

_ “There’s nothing to agree to,” Jinyoung had said. “My case is in your  _ very able  _ hands, Attorney.” Jaebeom hadn't missed the way Jinyoung’s eyes travelled to his fingers, bottom lip bitten as though the mere sight of Jaebeom’s hands was a foreplay in the making. _

_ Heaving a very heavy sigh, Jaebeom had clutched at his face, breathing deeply, trying to settle his thoughts and emotions. Emerging slowly from the confines of his hands, he found that Jinyoung was still watching him, yet this time his eyes remained on Jaebeom’s face, locking onto Jaebeom’s own gaze once they were no longer obscured. This was a man capable of taking another person’s life, a stubborn man who refused to even assist the person trying to secure his freedom, a potential sociopath that endangered the general public. _

_ So why had Jaebeom’s fear, far from building, ebbing away? _

_ “Is there anything you would like to share with me, anything at all that would help your case, Mr. Park?” As much as Jaebeom wanted to be as professional and indifferent as he could in front of his client, his desperation at getting any type of reaction had begun to show. _

_ He had received another smirk and a shackled foot grazing up his pant trousers as a response. Reflexively, Jaebeom had stood up abruptly, gathering his documents quickly in both frustration and irritation at having such a burdensome case  _ and _ client on his hands. He would need the extra few minutes before having to be in the courtroom to regain his composure and call on some peace of mind to prepare for the first proceeding. And clearly being here with his client was not going to result in anything productive. _

_ “If you maintain your refusal to cooperate, Mr. Park, then I will proceed with the case as my team and I see fit,” Jaebeom had said dismissively. “I will see you in the courtroom.” _

_ Documents collected, Jaebeom had turned to leave the room, not a second glance spared at the man still confined to his seat. But it seemed, much like their first meeting, he still hadn't been allowed to have the last say. _

_ “That hair looks good on you, Jaebeom.” _

_ Jaebeom had frozen, trembling fingers immediately going to the wavy strands curtaining his face. Years of law school, internships, and being a legal associate had never prepared a person for these sort of scenarios. He was well-versed in litigation, in argument-building, in case studies, but what was he to do when his client, a suspected serial killer, complimented his hairdo? _

_ Unsure of the intention of the comment yet quite certain he did not want to be privy to whatever mind games Jinyoung was playing, Jaebeom had willed himself another deep breath and exited the room, leaving behind that sense of unsettlement shaking his very being. _

_ It was soon showtime and Jaebeom needed to be at his utmost best. _

Unfortunately for Jaebeom, some things laid beyond his control.

While Jinyoung had undoubtedly cleaned up compared to the mugshots circulating through the media and other less flattering pictures being put on display, this much cleaner appearance did nothing for his presence in the courtroom.

The initial request had been made to make the proceedings closed to the public on the basis of the victim in question being a minor. Jaebeom had also tried to request that his client not be present for safety purposes, considering the level of animosity the public had against the defendant. Both requests had been denied by the presiding judge, noting the importance of public scrutiny on the case and the need for conviction that the suspect had, indeed, been detained by authorities. Not that Jaebeom had been hopeful his requests would be granted, but he had hoped his job would be made a little easier without the hubbub to be undoubtedly incited by the entrance of his client.

And incited, it did.

The immediate uproar rose like an impending tsunami wave intent on crashing violently onto the coastal shores. Once people had put the face they’d seen on countless news reports to the man that had walked in, heavily guarded on either side of him, hands and feet cuffed safely in metal, the noise erupted into tantamount within the confined courtroom. Two voices stood out amongst the rest, seated right behind the prosecutor’s desk, their shouts much more raw with emotion and much heavier in unadulterated anger.

The victim’s parents.

Jaebeom didn’t have time to dwell on the utter anguish coming from those two voices because the panel of three judges had entered and order had been asked of the room. Jinyoung had already sat himself in the seat next to Jaebeom and had his hands neatly folded on the table, body upright, face as blank as a sheet of paper, eyes trained forward. He seemed unaffected by the chaos he’d triggered in the courtroom with his presence and quite adamant in not acknowledging the stares directed at him. Jaebeom would have thought he was also being completely disregarded if he didn’t feel Jinyoung’s thigh ever so slightly brush up against his.

He would tell his client that this was inappropriate and unacceptable behaviour endangering his credibility as legal representation and perhaps compelling him to withdraw from the case, but he didn’t think that would be the threat he presumed it to be. At this point, he had stayed alive long enough in such close proximity with the accused serial killer that his fear for his life was numbing, instead, his annoyance at Jinyoung’s stubborn abandon for cooperation had begun sinking into his bones. It was irksome at best, that Jinyoung either didn’t care much for his own defense or he just had that much faith in Jaebeom, as he had said on that first official meeting.

Everytime Jaebeom tried to think through the reasons behind Jinyoung’s lack of understandable behaviour, the more he subscribed to the belief that it was futile to rationalize the way a murderer’s mind worked. Rationality could not make a home where conscience was absent.

“Court is now in session for Case Number 0524/I/2019. Seoul Special Metropolitan City vs. Park Jinyoung.”

Jaebeom took a deep breath, closing his eyes in the process.

And so it had begun.

***

A trial that should have taken months came to a screeching halt within weeks.

Jaebeom’s instincts had never proven wrong and they didn’t fail him this time either. He wished it had. Honest to God, he wished he had been wrong, but the telltale signs of the prosecutor’s case falling apart due to insufficient strategizing ultimately, yet predictably, became their downfall.

There were no heads nor tails of their case, no structure of arguments, no flow of storytelling that would be riveting enough to draw the jury, even with the preconceived notion of Jinyoung’s guilt already bearing in everyone’s mind. Everything they lacked, Jaebeom had come prepared.

So when the prosecution immediately jumped to the notion of Jinyoung’s seemingly undeniable guilty intent— _ mens rea _ , as they would continuously jargon—as their opening argument, Jaebeom knew they were riding on unfounded prejudice and assumption, tunneling their view and approach of the entire case on this one belief. While it wasn’t a novel approach, and definitely one foreseeable with such a strong public opinion, it was also very difficult to uphold. Rather than building upon the evidence they had to solidify public perception, the prosecution rode on that perception as their pegasus of justice.

And that was their downfall.

The thing with public perception was that it was fragile, flaky at best. Whilst the outcry for justice was loud and clear, people’s opinions backing that up was as changeable as a rotating door. It took very little to sway thoughts in the completely opposite direction.

That was exactly what Jaebeom did.

When the prosecution brought up the myriads of accusations against Jinyoung: past cases, possible leads, practically everything that had been revolving around news coverage between Jinyoung’s capture to the first trial, Jaebeom put his fingers into the cracks already showing, pulling those crevices apart with a simple exertion of strength through the exact same approach the prosecution team used. Until the cracks became jarring trenches without a salvaging bridge in sight. In essence, he used the best of the prosecution’s strategy to cleave the proposition.

“Your honour,” Jaebeom had opened, during the third trial, once it became clear how the prosecution planned their case, “what we have heard from the prosecution is this: rumours. Word of mouth. Baseless assumptions. The extent of their entire claim is based on everything we have heard in the news, things shared on social media, opinions by those who deem it an opportunity to boost their own popularity. We cannot deem this sufficient to proceed with a case that would inevitably determine a man’s fate on the line.”

At this, Jaebeom had turned to the panel of juries, most of which already drawn to Jaebeom’s mere presence and giving him their undivided attention. It certainly helped that his command of the room was strongly supported by his charisma and captivatingly sharp, good looks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, how many times have we heard of cases as complicated as these ending up only to prosecute the wrong person, ultimately executing an innocent individual? There is a legal doctrine called Blackstone’s ratio–.”

“Objection, Your Honour!” The prosecution team was quick to raise, as Jaebeom had predicted. “That is an archaic and heavily debated doctrine. It holds no place in this court.”

Jaebeom had come prepared, turning to the judge with a polite smile. “But aren’t all legal doctrines archaic and constantly debated, Your Honour? I think it unfitting to do any doctrines injustice simply by denying its use in court for those reasons alone.”

The judge watched Jaebeom closely, nodding after a moment’s contemplation. “I’ll allow it,” the judge said, waving a hand away at the objecting prosecutor.

At that, Jaebeom had turned back to the jury. “As I was saying, ladies and gentlemen: Blackstone’s doctrine. It stipulates that all presumptive evidence of felony should be admitted cautiously, for the law holds that it is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer. If you believe that my client, Mr. Park,” at this Jaebeom had briefly gestured towards Jinyoung but aptly avoiding his gaze, “is guilty, that’s fine. But please base those beliefs on unquestionable evidence, on strong defense of the law, on beliefs that do not leave a single room for doubt. Do not, as the prosecution has done, base them on gossips, dubious accounts, and grainy footage.”

Jaebeom had moved away from the jury’s stand, a little closer to the prosecution team’s table, visibly seeing their faces either blanch or redden with obvious anger and fear at how enraptured the jury was with Jaebeom’s speech.

“When we adjourn today, I ask that you, as the esteemed jury, consider whether it is right that we proceed with this case, ending with the possibility that my client, a man accused of these horrific crimes for simply being from a small town, choosing to keep to himself, and having difficulties, like any of us have, fitting in with city life and maintaining a stable job. Ask yourself if you can live with your conscience once you sign the fate of this man to further unjust scrutiny. Ask yourself if you can live with knowing that you may have helped a man face the fate not meant for him.”

That had been Jaebeom’s closing. Several days later when the court had reconvened, to a tense and awaiting audience of the open court, the judge had declared the jury’s decision to halt the proceedings, the case no longer deemed to be fit to continue.

The uproar following that announcement had been instantaneous.

Jaebeom focused all his thoughts and energy to ensuring that Jinyoung was safely escorted back out of the court to detainment and that Jaebeom had all the necessary documents to later process his release. He barely heard his team congratulating him nor the ringing of his phone of his partners obviously calling to also commend his success at his first major case. He ignored the compliments of his senior partners, who had been present for the trial, on his promising career in criminal law and complex, gray-area cases. There was so much he still had left to do, including the press swarming around him almost claustrophobically, demanding for a statement or two, but, like in the opening trial, only one set of voices, one group of faces stood out the most to Jaebeom and stole his immediate attention.

Hwang Hyunjin’s parents. Screaming, crying, shouting in absolute agony. Family and the prosecution team trying and failing to console their shredded hearts. In a moment of pure coincidence, the mother caught Jaebeom’s eyes amidst the cacophony of noise, her piling emotions suddenly became funneled into one clear target.

“YOU!” she screamed. “YOU LET THAT MONSTER GET AWAY! HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU DEFEND A MURDERER AND LET HIM LOOSE ON OUR STREETS?! HE KILLED OUR BABY! HE TOOK MY HYUNJINNIE! HOW COULD YOU! MY HYUNJINNIE! MY SON! MY BABY!”

Her husband and family held onto her, trying their best to keep her in a state of comfort and calmness, but their venomous glares of pure, unadulterated hatred all zeroed in on Jaebeom.

Something died inside of Jaebeom. He didn’t feel like he had won the case after all.

***

It took ten days before Jaebeom returned to his own apartment. He would explain, to his colleagues and staff, that he had to tie up the loose administrative ends of the case, putting a final close to it before he could properly rest. Nobody questioned it, knowing they had all been through their fair share of long hours and overnight stays at the firm. And with a case as high profile as the one Jaebeom just handled and seemingly single-handedly triumphed, nobody dared probe further into his motives for avoiding his home.

Eventually, he had to. The urge to properly cleanse himself in his own bathroom and get into a proper change of comfortable clothes overriding any desire to further delay his return home. And so it was with a very heavy heart and an even heavier conscience that he stepped through the doors of his apartment that night.

Whilst nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at first glance, the subtle shifts of items on his coffee table, his bookshelf and kitchen counter, to Jaebeom’s strictly organized mind, they stood out glaringly. He tried to ignore the nagging itch to fix them, however, continuing into his bedroom as he undid his tie and shirt cuffs.

“You’re finally home.”

Any other person would have screamed, would have panicked, or, at the very least, would have flinched. Jaebeom remained impassive, the chore of removing his dirty shirt unhalted for even the briefest moment.

A rustle of sheets and the figure on his bed rose, moving closer to crowd into Jaebeom’s personal space, even if he had firmly turned his back on the person.

“Why did it take you so long to come home?”

Fingers danced on Jaebeom’s shoulders, touch soft and dainty, but no less chilling. They traveled down his arm in a calculated prance, giving his elbow a soft squeeze before laying gentle to park at his waist. A chest warmed his back, space diminishing between them as they drew nearer, a nose tracing his neckline, and a soft huff of breath intentionally blown to his ear. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his back nor the goosebumps that rose along his neck.

Jaebeom felt nothing but disgust.

“Please leave, Jinyoung.”

The nosing didn’t stop and the hands on his waist simply circled tighter around him, fingers now toying with the remaining undone buttons of his shirt.

“Hm? But I’ve been waiting for you.”

Closing his eyes to gather strength, both physically and emotionally, Jaebeom gripped Jinyoung’s hand and turned around to face him head-on. He looked miles better than Jaebeom had last seen him at that decisive trial: much cleaner, much more put together, the vestiges of his good looks becomingly glaringly obvious. The change out of that orange tracksuit had definitely helped. But his demeanor was still cold, his posture still arrogantly confident, his eyes still soulless.

“Leave, Jinyoung.”

Far from heeding the command, Jinyoung tugged his hands out of Jaebeom’s grip, almost effortlessly doing so as if Jaebeom’s lax in a strong hold mirrored his lack of conviction in his own words. Jaebeom felt rather than saw Jinyoung shift closer to him, body now pressed up against his with arms locking onto his neck securely.

He saw the kiss coming, had known it would happen from the moment he finally conceded to returning to his apartment and talked himself into doing everything he could to fight against it, but when those lips touched his, the reaction was involuntary, his body responding in the only way it could to lips it knew, to lips it cherished, to lips it missed.

The inner turmoil of conflicting emotions was tearing at his heart, his soul. His eyes shut tight, but they did nothing to mask the intimacy of Jinyoung’s lips, minute movements and subtle pressure that only came from years of familiarity and knowledge of one another. He could feel his body singing to the tune that Jinyoung was playing, their frames molding into similar nooks and crannies. There was grinding on his thigh and a hand strayed to Jaebeom’s crotch, none too subtle about their intentions.

“It doesn’t seem like you really want me to leave,” Jinyoung said, lips only inching a breath away from Jaebeom’s.

He was forced to bring his eyes to an open and perhaps that was the vital wake up call he needed. Jinyoung’s kiss may have held nostalgia, may have worked on muscle memory, but his eyes, those eyes were everything that built Jaebeom’s resolve of finality. And with their locked gazes, Jaebeom took a determined step back, distancing himself firmly from the man trespassing upon his premises and invading his emotions.

“Get out.”

Far from the soft tone bordering on a plea in his earlier rejection, this one held more power, unyielding and set, just as Jaebeom’s resolve solidified. Perhaps it was the tone of his voice or the harsher words, it could also have been the way Jaebeom held himself, upright and strong in his stance, unwavering in his determination. But something definitely clued Jinyoung in on the change in their usual dynamics.

“You can’t tell me to leave,” he said, laughing hollowly in ridicule.

“If you don’t, then I will,” Jaebeom said, jaw clenched tight.

Jinyoung’s laughter died in his throat, his expression morphing into an ugly scowl almost instantaneously. “And where do you think you’ll go? Do you think you can escape me? No matter where you’ll go, I’ll always find you!”

Jaebeom shook his head, disregarding Jinyoung’s threat. “I’m done, Jinyoung. I’m not doing this anymore.”

Jinyoung’s facial expressions were so contorted at this point that the reference to him being a monster by Hyunjin’s mother suddenly made a very fitting title. 

“You have no choice, Jaebeom! Do you think I’ll let you go that easily?!” Jinyoung was flat out screaming at this point. “I’ll kill you!”

Jaebeom’s head snapped to attention at this. “Then kill me,” he said.

The silence that fell upon them was so stiflingly thick, it almost felt suffocating. One would think Jaebeom was simply posing a challenge, that this was nothing more than an empty threat in the heat of the argument or a means to escape the situation. But it really wasn’t. At this point, Jaebeom had no value for his life. His soul was exhausted, his heart fatigued. He would gladly go.

It was a thunderbolt of reversal that most definitely and most visibly shifted the power balance. Jinyoung may have been the one previously detained for a number of murders, but it was clear that his kryptonite lay in his inability to maintain control of how the situation would unravel. And maybe, just possibly, in Jaebeom himself.

“Kill me like all those other people you killed,” Jaebeom said.

Maybe it would be liberating, finally putting Jaebeom at peace with himself. At the very least, he could let his body rest.

“You’re bluffing,” Jinyoung said, body stiff and eyes livid, but the slightest shake to his frame told Jaebeom that the turn of events broke through his composure.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom said, putting his hands up in defeat and sighing. “I know you still carry around that knife with you and–.”

Jinyoung was swift, quick to move, and very strong. But Jaebeom also made no move to evade him. The aforementioned knife was at his throat within seconds, Jinyoung’s other hand gripping both of Jaebeom’s wrists in a vice-like grip that didn’t allow him to struggle. Not that he would.

“If you don’t shut up right now, I’ll slit your throat before you can even  _ think _ about getting the next word out,” Jinyoung hissed in his face.

Jaebeom, for all his resolve, couldn’t help quench down that tiny ray of hope that clung onto the possibility among impossibilities that perhaps, he was wrong about this, about the emptiness he saw in Jinyoung’s eyes. But try as he may, their gazes locked so fiercely, he saw nothing but murky depths of endless vacantness. Nothing. There really was nothing there. Jaebeom knew from the moment he took in this last case that there really was nothing left there.

With one deep breath, Jaebeom leaned into the sharp blade of the knife and let it cut slightly into his skin.

Startled by the move, Jinyoung pushed Jaebeom away, eyes widened so comically large they made him look hysterical. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why are you suddenly so determined to die?”

“I’m done, Jinyoung,” Jaebeom repeated, much more calmly than Jinyoung was reacting. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I won’t help you escape anymore. I did it for my entire career, for my entire life. I’m done.”

Jinyoung stared at him incredulously, knife still brandished, but not posing any threat at Jaebeom. “You never questioned it before! Why now?”

Jaebeom looked at Jinyoung with all the ache in his heart thrumming like a poisonous stream of painful heartbreak. If anything, Jinyoung’s question was the nail on the coffin.

“If you have to ask, then you really are no longer the Jinyoung I know.”

Desperation struck through Jinyoung, his next actions uncalculated and quite simply,  _ rash _ . He crowded Jaebeom once more, the knife reclaiming its place by Jaebeom’s jugular, but far from threatening him with his life, Jinyoung used his free hand to pull Jaebeom into a hasty kiss, all tongue and teeth, no finesse, no feelings. The insistent grinding of his groin on Jaebeom’s was hurried, pathetic almost, the actions of a desperate man. The knife falling in his haste for a reaction from Jaebeom, left abandoned to the floor.

This time, Jaebeom’s body only felt numb. He neither responded nor rejected Jinyoung, feeling his heart and body no longer having the strength to fight.

“You like this, don’t you?” Jinyoung was huffing into his ear, a wet tongue clearly trying to seduce him into compliance. “Isn’t this what we always do after you successfully get me off a trial?”

Jaebeom closed his eyes. “Jinyoung, please, stop.”

Putting firm hands on Jinyoung’s shoulders and with surprisingly little effort, Jaebeom held Jinyoung at arm’s length. He refused to look at Jinyoung any longer.

“Either kill me or leave,” Jaebeom said.

Jinyoung was beyond enraged. “Why are you such a saint so suddenly? You helped me get away with killing all those people before! Stop acting like your hands are clean! This time is no different!”

The edges of Jaebeom’s heart were frizzled, the limits of his patience already thinning, and, really, it wasn’t in his best interest to retaliate emotionally. That was how things usually got worse between the two of them. But at that last statement, at Jinyoung’s stubborn dismissal of identifying the issue at hand, that tore a new hole in Jaebeom that let loose all of his pent-up frustrations, anger, and utter, profound anguish.

“This time  _ is  _ different, Jinyoung! This time is completely different! Because this time,  _ you killed a child _ !” Jaebeom yelled, clutching at his hair.

Predictably, Jinyoung rode on Jaebeom’s anger, ready to counterattack. “He was fourteen and a thief!” 

That was the absolute last straw.

“YUGYEOM WAS THIRTEEN!”

Jinyoung’s entire face blanched as though doused with bleach, the fight immediately leaving him. Horror, disbelief, and the most heart-wrenching flashes of agonizing grief played on Jinyoung’s face. He stared at Jaebeom as though he’d uttered something so immensely taboo, something so foul that it had no right being verbalized. And that probably wasn’t too far off from the truth. Neither one had spoken about Yugyeom for years. Not since the incident.

“That Hyunjin kid was only fourteen, Jinyoung,” Jaebeom said, tugging at his own hair in frustration. “Only a year older than Yugyeom. He was being stupid. He got drunk and just wanted to steal some more beer. He didn’t even have a weapon.”

“He’s just like–.”

“NO, HE’S NOT, JINYOUNG!” Jaebeom screamed, so infuriatingly irritated that Jinyoung  _ just didn’t get it _ . “He’s nothing like the man that broke into your house and used  _ that knife _ –,” he pointed with shaking fingers at the fallen weapon near his feet, “–to kill Yugyeom. He was a kid, he was young, he was just stupid. He had a family. He didn’t deserve to die.”

Slowly and repeatedly, Jinyoung began shaking his head, the colour returning to his face along with his emotional rage.

“HE WAS ROBBING THE STORE AND HE WAS GOING TO GET AWAY!” Jinyoung yelled. “ _ EVERY  _ ROBBER SHOULD BE PUNISHED! THEY DESERVE TO  _ DIE _ ! THEY SHOULDN’T GET AWAY! THEY SHOULD  _ NEVER  _ LIVE WHEN YUGYEOM HAD TO  _ DIE _ !”

As though beckoned by the reminder of that memory, Jinyoung’s eyes drew back to the discarded knife. In one swift move, he picked it up again, this time pointing the sharp edge to Jaebeom’s chest. 

“You don’t get to talk about Yugyeom. You have  _ no right _ to talk about Yugyeom,” Jinyoung said in a low hiss to Jaebeom, face contorted once again, expression crossing over to deranged at this point.

Jaebeom felt the fight leave him once again. “He might have been your younger brother, Jinyoung, but I grew up with him just as you did. You know I had no siblings. You  _ know  _ he was just as much my brother as he was yours.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Yugyeom as if you even know a fracture of what it felt like to see him...dead,” Jinyoung warned.

Jaebeom ignored the warning. “It broke me just as much when I found out. I lost a brother too, Jinyoung.”

The knife was beginning to push into Jaebeom’s chest, the point tearing through the fabric. “YOU DON’T GET IT–YOU HAVE NO IDEA– _ NO IDEA _ –STOP PRETENDING–.”

“I get it, Jinyoung! I get it more than anybody else!” Jaebeom hadn’t escalated back to yelling, but his voice held just as much strength as Jinyoung’s. “I was there, remember? I was there when you found out. I was there with you at the funeral. I was there with you every single day as you grieved, as  _ we  _ grieved. I have been there for you,  _ with  _ you, every single step of the way. But this! This has gone too far.  _ You’ve _ gone too far. And I can’t….” He had to heave a deep breath and exhale very slowly before he could let the rest of his words out. “I can’t anymore, Jinyoung.”

Driven possibly even more agitated by the absolute defeat and resignation in Jaebeom, Jinyoung let out an animal-like scream, a growl from the very depths of his chest that reverberated throughout the room. The hand that held the knife against Jaebeom’s chest was vibrating so uncontrollably, the blade was more in danger of accidentally falling on one of their feet rather than doing any actual, fatal harm on Jaebeom.

“And what do you suppose you can do? You think you can just up and  _ leave _ ?” Jinyoung demanded. “I’ll find you, Jaebeom! I’ll chase you to the end of the earth and I’ll find you! You can’t run away from me! You can’t hide from me!”

Jaebeom shook his head calmly. “No, you won’t find me,” he said, hands coming up to softly hold Jinyoung’s trembling ones.

For a man who was in such close proximity with not only a suspected murderer, but one he definitively knew had killed each and every single one of his victims in blinding rage, cold blood, and with vengeance weighing on his heart, Jaebeom was commendably serene.

“ _ You _ will never find me,” Jaebeom said, pulling the knife-wielding hand away from his chest. “Jinyoung... _ my  _ Jinyoung...the Jinyoung I knew...the Jinyoung I loved... _ he  _ might.”

A strong grip of his wrists and Jaebeom had Jinyoung’s grip on the knife weakening, the weapon softly thudding on the carpeted floor almost inconspicuously.

“But  _ you _ never will.”

Jaebeom stepped away from Jinyoung, the other man still trembling from Jaebeom’s ultimatum. He made no move to follow Jaebeom, simply watching the man disappear behind the doors of his bathroom, the lock softly yet surely clicking into place, followed closely by the sound of water running.

Maybe it was the gall of Jaebeom to even be that confident in believing he could simply vanish without a trace and without the slightest possibility of Jinyoung tracing him. Or maybe it was the simple fact that the truth in Jaebeom’s words were slowly yet surely sinking its claws into the deepest recesses of Jinyoung’s heavily guarded insecurities. Somewhere in those depths, the fire of vengeance flickered as though the desire to wield the murderous weapon that had taken his brother’s life began to wane.

Jaebeom would later emerge back into his bedroom, void of any other occupant, unperturbed as though the previous events had never occurred, and the knife still on the floor.

***

“...on the fifth year anniversary of the astonishingly short case featuring the suspect to a series of unsolved murders that had spanned nearly two decades long, the families of the victims have collectively reported to suddenly receiving a sizeable amount of money directly deposited into their bank accounts. The case, involving one Park Jinyoung, who had been released upon the jury’s decision to no longer proceed with his trial, had received numerous scrutiny and criticism over the years for the way it had been dismissed. Months following that court trial, families of victims had rallied to protest Park Jinyoung’s release and called for his detainment. While the police had promised to keep a close eye on Mr. Park, the man had never been sighted in public nor surveillance since the trial. Park Jinyoung’s defense lawyer, then a newly made partner at the famous Ok and Partners lawfirm, has also been reported to have resigned shortly after the conclusion of that case and has also never appeared in public again….”

The small, grainy television remained running, its audience only a vacant room filled almost wall-to-wall with prints and prints of photography, its coffee table laden heavily with lenses and films organized neatly by size and design. The wooden house was small, electricity and access to the outside world rather limited. It would be an isolated cottage if it didn’t sit in walking distance to another similarly erected and equally secluded house, and subsequent houses along the gravel road.

Jinhae was a small town and its outskirts where the farms spread out was even more restricted in its population and exposure to city life. But the beauty of being in such an outlying area was that things barely changed. The small house, the surrounding area, the growing nature around it remained the same, as it had years and years ago, sans a few additional power lines and old trucks permanently parked in nearby barns.

Twenty-three years ago, to be exact. Twenty-three years ago when Jaebeom had lived there.

Yet despite how much things had not seemingly changed for over two decades, Jaebeom found himself, his being, entirely transformed. And maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe he had come full circle with the moment in his life that had driven him out of the beloved town he had been born and grew up in, and now he had found peace in himself to live the rest of his life in the place he loved the most.

Bringing up the camera he held in the palm of his hand, Jaebeom squinted at the small viewfinder, shifting the camera around to adjust the scene he wanted to shoot. It was an old camera, small and manual, but it was his favourite. He had a much more advanced one in the house, several actually, but this camera called to him in his most serene times. There was a beauty in working hard to get the right shot with minimal assistance.

Jaebeom’s striped navy shirt was loose, the top few buttons undone, half the tail tucked into his baggy pants and the wind mercilessly blowing them around him. The waves crowning his head were disgruntled by the hands of the autumn wind, a little chilly, but the piercing feeling of it on his skin was invigorating, enlivening. He let the tendrils of the wind sweep through the goosebumps rising on his skin and embrace him in a soft whisper of a hold.

Repositioning himself in search of a picture-worthy shot, one eye still squinting through the glass of the viewfinder, Jaebeom felt his grip weaken and his camera almost fell unceremoniously to the ground.

It didn’t, though. It did, however, become lowered to unblock his view, both eyes fully taking in the sight before him, jaw slackened, and his heart climbing to a quick drumming in both anticipation and disbelief.

The figure before him was one he was painfully familiar with, even if years had gone in between them. The camera he still had in his hands had its twin accompany the man mere strides away from Jaebeom, its lens directed straight at Jaebeom just as his had been moments ago. The wind seemed to pick up on the moment, its gust dramatically rising, whipping back the white bomber jacket the other man had on, billowing into the loose, navy shirt he wore underneath, almost like a mirror call to Jaebeom’s own.

The camera was slowly lowered and Jaebeom felt his breath, his heart leave him, as though desperate to close the distance between them and reach out to the man. A small smile greeted Jaebeom, one that held no contempt, no feigned arrogance, no malign desire for revenge. Just a small, shy smile, one that Jaebeom had not seen for over two decades.

Something akin to joy erupted from the confines of Jaebeom’s heart.

“I found you,” Jinyoung said, taking steps towards Jaebeom, smile growing the closer he was.

Jaebeom looked into those eyes, so full of colour, so full of life, shining with indescribable emotions that he could only begin to recognize were swimming in his own chest.

“You did,” Jaebeom said, a whisper against the wind, but that was okay. Jinyoung was close enough at this point that he could feel his warmth sheltering against the whistling wind.

Tears trailed down his cheeks, but just like a reflection, Jinyoung’s eyes watered with streams as well. Tentatively, he felt fingers touch his, taking his hands when he didn’t flinch away, bringing them together to be the only thing between them and holding them tightly in one solid grip. Eyes never leaving each other, Jaebeom clutched at their joined hands, the first of a real smile breaking out onto his face, relief flooding every single nerve ending on his body.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung said softly, bringing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry for being lost.”

Jaebeom shook his head minutely, careful not to disrupt the fragile bridge they were slowly rebuilding. “You’re here. You’re back.  _ My  _ Jinyoung.”

They kissed, as lovers do when they’re reunited. A kiss decades delayed from heartbreak, grief, disappointment, anger, vengeance, and everything in between. A true kiss unlike any they had ever shared the moment they left that town, that home, ridden with so much unsaid emotions, so many pending feelings. A kiss long in the making and maybe, possibly, even at one point, a kiss they both believed would never be again.

But it was in the way Jaebeom’s fingers untangled from Jinyoung’s, arms circling his frame to crowd him into an embrace. It was in the way Jinyoung clutched back just as tightly at Jaebeom’s shoulders, fingers massaging as though in assurance, in familiar comfort. It was in the way their eyes reflected their hearts, an illustration of the profound love they held for each other and could still hold to this day.

It was in the way that maybe, though their future path may be winding and difficult, they could finally start to heal.

Because they had been with each other in the worst ways, and maybe it was time they be together in the best ways.

“Just me,” Jinyoung said, emotions choking him up, “and you.”

Jaebeom nodded, a sigh of relief escaping him. “Just us.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Out of possibly sheer luck (and stubborn determination), the prompt I received for the Jukebox was for my all-time, absolute favourite Fall Out Boy song "I'm Like A Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)" (clearly I was very creative in my titling of my writing).
> 
> I tried to do the song justice by taking a leap into the deep end of angst, which I always associated with the song. It always made me think of toxic co-dependent relationships that left the players with little to no freedom of will to escape, but eventually growing and making things better together, even if not fully recovering. The fact that it's a lawyer-criminal AU is just a bonus because of my legal education background (although I would not vouch for the validity of any legal accuracies in this story because they are purely fictional and exaggerated).
> 
> I know I left a lot of questions unanswered and I wold be happy to answer any you might have. I may also consider writing short spin-off snippets of time-skipped scenes if I get enough people curious about them, but most definitely not anytime in the near future.
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed the ride (if you made it this far to the end, kudos!) and do let me know what you think!


End file.
